


Ouroboros

by Lesya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Ill add more as I go along - Freeform, M/M, Post Hogwarts AU, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 20:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13772442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesya/pseuds/Lesya
Summary: While adjusting to his new teaching position at Hogwarts, Harry discovers an interesting book in the Restricted Section of the school library. If only he could actually open it.





	Ouroboros

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys this is my second drarry fic ever! I wasn't sure if I was going to come back to this fandom, but decided I still had some stories to tell. I hope you enjoy this and leave some kudos/comments!

Harry slowly stirred.

His head felt about a hundred pounds heavier and there was a distinct ringing in his ears. The ringing got higher and higher until it disappeared and the sounds of leaves filled his ears instead. He grimaced as he opened his eyes to bright light; he had to blink a few times to adjust.

He breathed in and out and took on the extremely difficult task of getting up. He turned to his side and raised himself up so he was sitting. In front of him, Malfoy was stirring and groaning.

"Oh Merlin, am I dead?"

"Yes," Harry replied, deadpan.

Malfoy jerked up and turned to face him. He scowled when he recognized it was only Harry.

"Great, not even in death can I escape you."

"Quit being a drama queen. We need to figure out what happened."

"What happened? What happened is - oh, I actually can't remember, though I was fairly sure I was going over to your place."

"Yeah, that I remember. But then, something weird happened."

"And not even a good weird," Draco mumbled to himself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Where are we, anyways?"

"I dunno, looks like a park or something." Harry looked around and it slowly dawned on him that this was the park not far from Grimmauld Place. "Actually, I think I might know. If I'm right, we're not far from home."

Harry got up and dusted himself off. Like that'll do anything, thought Draco. The man had a way of being a mess at all times.

He held his hand out and Draco took it, raising up off the ground and dusting himself off.  Harry started walking and Draco followed, but he couldn't help feel a bit uneasy. The park felt...too empty.

But that was just regular old paranoia. He was well acquainted with it after the war. They all were.

"Ugh, I need a bath," Draco said. He'd given up on dusting himself off and was now trying his best not to feel embarrassed. He'd been learning how not to care about what other people think. It was both freeing and very nerve wracking.

"So, any clue how we got all the way here from Hogwarts? I don't recall a portkey."

Harry froze, the memory of what had happened flooding his thoughts.

"The book!" he shouted. Draco groaned and pressed a hand to his head.

"Can you please!" he sniped, but then caught on to what Harry had said. "Book? What book?"

"The weird one, remember? That we were looking at?"

Draco rubbed his temple and was about to say he knew nothing about any weird books, but stopped. Because he did remember. The memory came unbidden; he felt the soft leather on his fingers. He looked down at his right hand and saw blood on one of his fingers. He frowned at it.  

"Oh. That book. You think it had something to do with all this?"

"Must've. No other explanation I got. Do you?"

Draco had to fight to not be contrary and shook his head no.

"It's got to be around here, somewhere."

They started to turn about to look on the ground around them, but someone interrupted.

"You mean this?" a third voice said behind them. It was dark and growling, and a bit snide. They both gulped, knowing this wasn't going to be anything good, and turned to look at the newcomer.

* * *

 

It looked more like a closet than an elevator. It was filled to the brim with witches and wizards rushing off home, and Draco had the luck to be right in the middle of it all.

He usually avoided these rushes, waiting a bit for everyone to disperse before he would even think of getting into a tight space shared by people who were a bit stale after a day’s work.

He didn’t today, because he was having dinner with Potter and he didn’t want to be late. Those dinners were something he never missed and greatly looked forward to (even if it did mean sometimes sharing them with Granger and Weasel).

He’d shoved himself in, jostling people here and there. It looked like the elevator’s expansion charms were stretched to their limits – quite literally.

He took a deep breath and thought about what was waiting for him in Potter’s office. He wondered at what kind of thing the man had cooked up this time. He was always experimenting with new things and they always tasted wonderful. (He remembered giving him a compliment about it and wondered why he’d been so bad at potions. Potter had told him he was perfectly good at them when the instructions were proper. Draco had no idea what he meant by that.) He hoped they had pasta. He was starving by now and it was always filling. With mushrooms and chicken, and a nice sauce.

His stomach grumbled. He twitched a bit, but pretended like nothing happened and no one else paid him any mind.

He thought back to how he’d sometimes watch Potter cook, moving deftly to and fro, chopping and mincing. He used magic along with doing things manually and created these amazing dishes. When he asked where he’d learned to work like that, Potter told him that Molly Weasley taught him. She always had hungry stomachs to feed, so she had to work quickly and diligently.

After he set the meals, he’d pour out a bit of wine and they’d settle down. Admittedly, it was very different when it was just them two. When other people were around, it seemed homely and even fun. But when they were alone, Draco couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy. It was all so domestic, but more than that, it felt romantic. Many times he told himself to quit imagining things, but his mind couldn’t help but run away with fantasies. He told himself that Potter did all this to impress him. He certainly seemed happy whenever Draco exclaimed and praised his food. He would have a small smile and he’d look down, slightly bashful. It was rare to see proud Potter like that and it made something twist in Draco’s gut to see him like that.

He’d have a slight blush and his messy wild hair would fall into his eyes and he’d say, “Thanks,” quietly. Then it’d be over and they would be back to talking about the usual things. You couldn’t blame Draco for feeling like a husband coming home.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he felt someone staring at him. He turned, as much as he could, to see an older witch looking at him like he was some kind of loon. She had a proper air about her, which was a nice way of saying she had a stick up her bum. All he’d done was smile a bit and it was deemed as “strange” behavior.

He very pointedly didn’t stop smiling and stared right at her as if asking, “Well?” She huffed and tutted a bit and turned back to look ahead at the doors. She looked a bit like an offended chicken. Draco considered that a win and went back to thinking about what they’ll be eating and what Potter would be wearing and whether they’d actually be alone.  

When he got out of that stuffy elevator, he walked down the street to a muggle bakery. It was a small place, just in a corner, hidden in plain view almost like a wizarding shop would be. It wasn’t extravagant and certainly not a place a Malfoy would frequent, but one day he’d had an urge to eat some sweets and this place was right there, waiting for him. So, he’d walked in and experienced some of the best cooking he’d ever had. Their crème Brule was something else.

So, being a good guest, he thought he would order a cake to take with him. He walked in, the lights bright and only a few people sitting down for a bite. He made his way to the counter and the waitress, Marlene, looked up and smiled at him. She was quite used to seeing him around now.

“That cake is almost done. Just a few minutes and you’ll be ready to go,” she told him cheerfully.

“Alright. Thanks,” he replied, trying to be polite. He still felt a bit awkward around muggles, but that was mostly due to the anxiety that came with knowing you could blow your whole world’s secret by doing something stupid; he had to be hyperaware not to mindlessly use magic.

“So who’s it for?” she asked, a small smirk on her face.

“A friend.”

Her brows shot up. “A _friend_. I see.”

“It’s nothing like that.”

“Maybe not, but keep impressing your friend with our cakes and that’ll change pretty quickly.”

Draco snorted. “Is this a backhanded way of promoting your cakes and making me want to buy more?”

“Yes,” she admitted with a smile.

“Very sneaky.” He narrowed his eyes. “But not sneaky enough for me. Anyways, I think I’ll need more than your cakes. No offense.”

“None taken. But honestly, what’s up with them?”

“Well.....he’s a bit oblivious.”

“Oh?”

“You have to knock him over the head with it before he notices. I mean, I have dinner with him almost every day. And he cooks it, too!”

Marlene gave an exaggerated gasp. “No! And wine, too?”

“And wine.”

“Flowers?”

“No flowers. Yet.”

“Oh wow, maybe this guy’s trying to send _you_ a message and you’re the one not getting it?”  

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s him. I mean, he invites his friends sometimes and he always treats me the same as everyone else.”

“And you want to be special?”

He flushed at this. “No. I just. I don’t know.”

Marlene’s smirk smoothed out into a small smile and Draco couldn’t help but feel like he was maybe being pitied just a bit.

There was a call from the kitchen in the back and Marlene turned to go, coming back out in a few seconds with a box. Inside was the double chocolate cake he’d ordered (it was Potter’s favorite).

He handed over the muggle money, grabbed the box, and, giving a quick, “Thanks! Keep the change,” rushed out. He swore he heard Marlene giggle, but he’d rather not think about how ridiculous he probably looked. He ran into an alley and apparated to the border of Hogwarts. He walked in, knowing he was expected, and kept going all the way up to the castle.

He’d made it to Potter’s office and knocked, but there was no answer. Figuring the man must be in his personal quarters, Draco walked up to the portrait guarding Potter’s rooms and gave the password.

Inside, Potter was sitting by the fire, examining a closed book.

Draco cleared his throat.

Potter startled and looked up. “Oh! Hullo, didn’t hear you come in. Come on, dinner’s ready.” He got up and walked over to a small table by the window. There were already two plates set with something that smelled delicious. Draco walked over and set the cake down.

He sat down at the table; Potter came over and took the other seat. “Thank you for the meal,” they both said and dug in.

After a while, Draco couldn’t help his curiosity getting the better of him. “What were you looking at?” he asked.

“Oh that? I dunno, just some book I found.”

“In the restricted section?”

Potter scratched the back of his head.

Draco scoffed. “I swear, you can take the boy out of mischief, but you can’t take the mischief out of the boy. So, out with it. What’s it about?”

“That’s the thing; I have no idea. It won’t even open up!”

“Then why even bother picking it up?”

“I dunno, it just. It called out to me, somehow.”

“It called out to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Potter, I think you need a bit of a lie down if books are starting to talk to you.”

“To be fair, some books in the library do actually talk.”

“But this one didn’t. It just made you _feel_ something.”

“Yeah, I guess. I know it sounds stupid, but I usually have good intuition.”

“Well, I’ll pray to Merlin that the book doesn’t end up eating you or something.”

“Thanks,” Potter said, but his tone said otherwise. “What’s that?” He pointed at the box.

“Cake.”

“Oh. What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. Just wanted some cake. I’m allowed. In fact, I fucking deserve it. You know how horrifying the elevators can be?”

“Your sacrifices are numerous and great,” Potter replied, overly dramatically.

Draco sighed. “At least someone recognizes my hardships.”

Potter snorted. “You don’t even have to work there, you can just mooch off your fortune.”

“Why don’t you live off of your own fortune?”

“Cuz that’d be boring.”

“Exactly! I can’t sit around all day. Genius minds like mine would go absolutely bonkers. I’d end up like Dumbledore.”

“Are you implying he did nothing most his life?”

“No. But then, not like I know what he got up to.”

“I think, at this point, I’d rather not know either.”

Draco hummed in agreement and dug back into the pasta. Potter didn’t say much either, preferring to eat. Draco enjoyed these silences they had sometimes. They were comfortable and instilled a certain kind of peace in him that was hard to get with most people unless you were close with them. He very rarely shut up, but he appreciated these times he could be quiet.

“So....the book.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Mind if I have a look?”

“Sure. Be careful, I guess. Not like it did anything really, but you never know with magic.”

“Hmm.” Draco got up and picked up the book from the ground where Potter had dropped it. It was dark blue on the front and dark red on the back, bound in leather. It was simply decorated, only a small tree on the front, a sapling at most. On the back was a flower bud. Draco traced the golden lines of the designs, but they did nothing. There had to be some secret way to open it up, but it could be almost anything.

“I think we can open it up, but only if we figure out how it works. Some books need extra rituals to get them to open up.”

“That’ll take forever, though! Besides, maybe its best we don’t open it. It must be hard to open for a reason. Who knows what’s in it.”

“What could possibly be inside a book besides words?”

“A soul, for one. And who knows what other things.”

Draco blanched and gulped. He’d forgotten all about that. Potter had told him how Voldemort had split his soul to create Horcruxes and hid one piece in his own diary. He doubted this book was another one of those, but maybe Potter had a point....

“But don’t you want to know? Doesn’t it irk you not knowing?”

Potter seemed to struggle for words, then sighed. “Yes. Of course. But maybe, for once in my life, I should actually be careful.”

Draco gave an exaggerated gasp and put his hand on his chest. “Potter? _You_? You want to be careful instead of rushing into things head first without a second thought? It’s like I don’t even know you. Who are you and what have you done with my Scarhead?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to be so dramatic. I’m trying to be responsible.”

“Of course, _Professor_.”

Potter looked at him pointedly.

“ _Your_ Scarhead?” he asked, a little too smugly for Draco’s liking. Draco narrowed his eyes at him.

“Oh shut up. You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said dismissively, but his face was saying something else. Draco chose to ignore it and focused on the book instead.

He wondered if there were words he had to say. But there were no clues, except for the bud and the sapling. He tried rubbing the binding, but it did nothing.

The bud and sapling looked like they could grow. Maybe they needed water?

He looked around and picked up his cup. He cast an _auguamenti_ and picked it up, fully intending to splash the book with water. Yes, it sounded stupid to do that to a potentially old book. Hell, it was stupid to do that to a new one, but he had nothing else to go on, so he poured all the water out onto the cover.

“What are you doing?” Potter shouted, as if just realizing what was going on. “That’s ancient! You’re gonna ruin it! Are you mad?”

“Relax, Potter. I know what I’m doing.” No. He didn’t. But this was a fair guess. If it didn’t work, then _oh well_.

The moisture was slowly disappearing; it looked like the book was sucking it in. Something was definitely happening.

“Aha! See? I told you,” he said as haughtily as possible. Potter walked up closer and studied the book. They both watched, waiting for something else to happen, but nothing seemed to. Draco tried opening it, but it still did not budge.

“So, you told me, huh,” Potter said wryly.

“Shut up. I _was_ onto something, you can admit that.”

“Yeah. Maybe. Why’d you pour water on it anyway?”

“Well, you see it has a bud and a sapling. I thought that was a clue. Usually magical books have clues as to how to open them. I figured the clue was water, since the sapling and bud need to grow. But I suppose I wasn’t entirely right.”

“Well, maybe it needs other things, like sunlight.”

“Hmm, maybe. I wouldn’t rule it out. But where are we going to get sunlight? It’s already dark out. I suppose we could wait, but-”

Draco promptly shut up as Potter cast a solar spell. The man looked at him and smirked.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking.”

“I can’t just stop thinking.”

“Really? I think it’d be very easy for you.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from the guy who forgot he was a wizard who could use magic.”

Draco did not pout, but he did shut up and sniffed. He could admit when he was outplayed; he’ll get him later anyway.

Ignoring the annoying smirking Potter, he looked at the book in his hands. The bud and the sapling grew, but still, the book remained closed.

“I don’t get it. What else can we do?”

“Well, it looks like the bud has to bloom completely and the sapling probably has to grow out as well.”

“So how do we make that happen? I mean, what else do you think it might want?”

“I don’t know. The only other potential clue we have is the color. It’s red.”

“So?”

“Maybe the sapling and bud need something red. Like another liquid besides water that also signifies life. And death, I suppose.”

“You mean -”

“Blood? Yes.”

“Great. I picked up a vampiric book. Never had one of those before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “So, are we going to open it or not?”

“‘We’?”

“Well there’s two sides. And I want to see what’s inside, too.”

“Alright. Let me get something.”

“Get something?”

“Yeah, to cut open our hands to get some blood.”

“You’ve got a wand, haven’t you?”

This time it was Draco that smirked. Potter gave him a Look, but proceeded to use a cutting spell. He cut his hand open, wincing a bit. He went over to Draco to do the same, but paused.

“So? What are you waiting for?”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me @lesya-writes on tumblr


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